


Graham Wilson

by ghostlyeris



Series: Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Graphic Description, Major Character Injury, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlyeris/pseuds/ghostlyeris
Summary: this is my first time writing and publishing something in A While so yeetill work on my ffxv and bnha aus soonmaybe
Series: Original Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656061
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	Graham Wilson

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing and publishing something in A While so yeet
> 
> ill work on my ffxv and bnha aus soon
> 
> maybe

Graham Wilson must die. 

That’s the message the town had been painted with for months. Keyed into cars, carved into houses, scratched into lockers. The whole town knew that something wanted her dead. Including Graham herself.

Everyone in town is a little weird. The Crawford’s dog bleeds from its eyes, the school’s principal has skin that doesn’t fit quite right, and everyone knows there’s something in the woods eating the wildlife. It’s just how things are. Graham, though? Graham’s always been normal.

It’s not a family thing. I’ve known the Wilsons since I was young, and the rest of them are just as weird as every other member of the town. Her older brother has shown me his tentacles more times than I can count, and their mom keeps trying to poison me with her venom every time I come over. Graham, on the other hand, was just born as normal as they come. No tentacles, no talons, no nothing. 

And yet, something wanted Graham dead. 

No one’s really been able to figure out what it is. The creatures living in the woods don’t bother with warnings and the mayor stopped trying to eat citizens after the last election. We had honestly given up on trying to find out what wanted her dead months ago. I didn’t think snapping my neck would give me the answers we’ve been looking for.

It was a simple fall. Tripped while fucking around on the roof, went right over the edge. Didn’t even feel it. One second, I was alive. The next second, dead. And the second after that, I was staring at Graham’s face. And caved in skull.

She gave me that trademarked Wilson smile, the one that was nothing but teeth and bad intentions. The one I hadn’t seen in months. Before I knew it, she was hauling me to my feet and we were staring at my dead body.

“Taken out by a gutter full of leaves, huh? Such a noble death.” Her voice was full of mockery. I had missed that, even if I didn’t know it was gone until a few minutes ago. This was Graham Wilson alright.

The  _ real _ Graham Wilson.

We both looked for a few more seconds at my prone form before she took me by the wrist and phased us through the wall of my house. It was a weird feeling. I did not enjoy it.

Navigating the corridors was an interesting, if not slightly nauseating experience, due to Graham not caring in the slightest about pulling me through doors, furniture, and even the ceiling at one point. I couldn’t tell you how we did it, but we eventually made it to my room, where she proceeded to shove me onto my bed. I surprisingly did not fall through it.

“How long before Helena comes home?” she asked, sprawling across my desk chair like she always did. The chair sunk to fit her (now incorporeal) frame like it always did. Graham Wilson had sunk into every crevice on my home and even in death, the house recognized her. 

I stared at the way she so effortlessly threw herself around, acting like she was still alive. In a way, I guess she was. Her incorporealness didn’t seem to matter; the world around her still responded to her touch like it always had. When she nudged my mug with her foot waiting for my response, it shifted closer to the edge. Waiting for one more push to let it topple. 

Graham had seemingly rejected death even while she  _ was _ dead.

She raised an eyebrow at me, and I remembered to respond. “About an hour or so, maybe. What happened to you?”

The sneer that graced her face emphasized, frankly, how awful she looked. The skin and muscle around one of her eyes had been torn into, like something had dug its nails into her flesh and rended it to ribbons. Her hair was caked in the blood spilling from her face. It was somehow the easiest wound to look at, though. 

Her torso was an incomprehensible scramble of organs spilling out, hasting to escape the cracked bones of her ribcage. There were chunks of flesh missing from her stomach with distinct bite marks carving out the areas. Her hamstrings had been torn out, leaving nothing but ripped tendons. Deep scrapes littered her arms and legs, like she had been dragged across something. She looked like a car crash; horrific to witness but impossible to look away from. 

“This happened a while ago,” she said nonchalantly like this wasn’t a big deal. Maybe to her this wasn’t. Unlike the rest of us, Graham was fragile. Her bones snapped like flimsy branches; a little bit of pressure and they would crack in half. She didn’t have our endurance or protection but I watched as she shrugged off death like a mild inconvenience. It made me wonder what else she had shrugged off. “That’s not what matters right now.”

This isn’t what matters? What could possibly matter more than this? Graham was  _ dead _ and it didn’t matter? “If this doesn’t matter, then what does?”

She slowly rolled her neck, letting it pop a couple of times and she uncurled from my desk chair and stood. Her head tilted to the side as she stared, searching for something in me. She must have found it since a grin unfurled on her face, pulling at the exposed muscle. As she leaned in close, she spoke in a low tone. “Something stole my body. You’re going to help me get it back.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

Her tone was definitive, like this was a fact of the universe. Water is wet, blood is red, I was going to help get her body back while Graham Wilson was dead. “Why me? Actually no. Why you?” What would possibly want her out of all people?

The look she gave me feel stupid, like the obvious was right in front of my face but I was too idiotic to see it. I was rapidly discovering that she was very good at making me feel stupid. “I am the most normal person in this town. Which if you think about it, actually makes me abnormal. And while I find it absolutely rage-inducing that not a single person besides my mother seems to think that I’m capable of walking two streets down the road without getting injured due to how  _ fragile _ I am, that type of protection can be appealing to particularly nasty things.”

“I don’t understand.” I could hear her words, but couldn’t piece together what they meant.

“Of course you don’t.” She pressed her hand against my chest and firmly shoved me back onto my bed, crawling on top of me and pinning me down. I felt like prey about to be devoured by something inescapable, inevitable. I wasn’t used to being afraid, but this was another thing Graham seemed to be rapidly teaching me. "No one in this town lets me breathe. I cannot go  _ anywhere _ without three separate people deciding that I need an escort down the block. I am untouchable by everyone and everything. This town is filled with thousands of my own personal guard dogs, protecting me from everyone and everything that even had the passing thought of laying a hand on me."

She gripped my jaw and made me lock eyes with her. The look in her eyes was pure mania, frantic and feral. Her breathe was warm against my face as she whispered, something that I shouldn't have felt, something completely impossible. The dead don't breathe.

"Do you get it now?"

  
  


And I did.

  
  
  


"Yes."

  
  
  
  
  


Graham Wilson must die. And I was going to be the one to kill her.


End file.
